


Getting to All Right

by Sunrise (sunrize83)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Episode: s02e09 Secrets, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1251784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunrize83/pseuds/Sunrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's after midnight. So where's Daniel?</p>
<p>Originally published in the <i>Make It Write</i> zine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting to All Right

"Long day, Colonel?"

Jack pulled the clipboard closer, scrubbing a hand over eyes blurred with fatigue. "You have _no_ idea." He picked up the pen, but paused, running a finger down the row of scrawled signatures. Frowning, he lifted the top sheet and scanned the one beneath. "Hold on. Why don't I see Dr. Jackson's name on this list?"

"He hasn't left yet, sir."

Jack shook his head, running through the names a second time. "That can't be. He told me he was heading home--" he glanced at his watch, "--two hours ago."

"Colonel, I've been on duty since 1800, and I haven't seen him."

Jack pinned the young guard with a glare of misdirected irritation. "You sure?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, for cryin' out . . ." After a moment's indecision, Jack tossed down the pen and turned back, muttering under his breath.

It was after midnight. He was bone-tired and soul-sick, his mind crowded with too many doubts and a formless feeling of guilt. He craved the sanctuary of home, the refuge of sleep, with a fierceness both surprising and a little disconcerting. So why was he walking in the opposite direction?

Daniel.

Jack's stomach twisted in empathy. How much more could the guy take? Or had he already reached his limit? That was the source of the queasy feeling in Jack's gut, and the reason he got back into the elevator and pressed the button for level 18.

He leaned against the smooth metal wall, eyes closed, and thought about the way Daniel's soft voice had never faltered during the debriefing, not even as he explained how he and Teal'c had discovered Sha're, pregnant and living with Kasuf on Abydos. He'd kept his gaze locked on his folded hands where they rested on the table's smoothly polished surface, responding to questions calmly, even dispassionately, but never making eye contact. Jack wondered if anyone else had noticed the way Daniel's knuckles had turned white when he'd recounted delivering his wife's child.

The door to Daniel's office was locked, and Jack's knocks were met with silence. Grumbling about pain-in-the-ass archeologists, Jack headed up to Carter's lab. When he got off the elevator, he could see her door was ajar, soft music spilling into the deserted hallway. For Pete's sake, didn't any of his teammates _sleep?_

Carter stood hunched over a lab bench, tinkering with some unidentifiable piece of equipment. Jack leaned on the doorjamb and waited for her to notice him. When several minutes had passed, he cleared his throat.

"Working a bit late, aren't you, Captain?"

Carter snapped her head up, nearly dropping a small screwdriver. "Colonel." She set down the tool and wiped her palms on her pants.

"It's been a long day. Thought you'd be home dreaming of naquada, or stellar drift, or . . . whatever you captain-doctors dream about."

"Was there something you needed, sir?"

"Some _one_ , actually. I was hoping I might find Daniel here."

"With me? No, sir, I haven't seen him since the debriefing. He probably went home."

Jack stepped all the way into the lab. "He hasn't signed out."

"Oh, well, maybe he stopped by the infirmary. Janet said he had a mild concussion and to come see her if he needed painkillers." 

She bent over her thingamajig, but not before Jack saw her blotchy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. Something was definitely up with Carter. She'd spent the flight back from DC just staring out the window, and had been uncharacteristically quiet during the debriefing. 

"Something else, Colonel?" she asked without lifting her head.

Jack hesitated, then waved a hand. "Nah. Carry on. And if you happen to see him--"

"I'll let him know you're looking for him."

Jack lingered outside the lab for a moment, then headed back to the elevator. He could only deal with one pending meltdown at a time. Carter's would have to keep.

Another trip in the damn elevator. Fraiser was in her office, sipping coffee and reviewing medical charts. She raised an eyebrow but waved at the coffeemaker.

"Colonel. Something I can do for you?"

Jack grabbed a mug, filled it, and dropped into a chair with a weary grunt. He took a fortifying swallow and grimaced--Fraiser liked her coffee strong enough to peel paint.

She closed the file she was working on and placed it in her outbox. "Dr. Jackson is fine." 

Jack cocked his head. "Excuse me?"

"I assume that's why you're in my office at . . . 0100." When Jack opened his mouth to speak, she held up a hand. "Yes, he took a pretty hard knock to the head, but he wasn't experiencing any nausea or blurred vision. A good eight hours of sleep in his own bed will do him wonders. There was no reason to keep him here overnight. If I'd had any doubts I'd have never--"

"Whoa, hold on. I'm not here to dispute your diagnosis. I was just hoping maybe you could tell me where he is?"

Fraiser's grin was a little sheepish. "Sorry, sir, but you'll have to admit you tend to get a bit overprotective when it comes to SG-1."

"Walk a mile in my shoes, doc. Then we'll talk. Anyway, have you seen him?"

"Not since I released him. I offered him something for his headache, but he insisted he didn't need it. He said he was going to shower, debrief, and then go straight home and sleep. What makes you think he didn't?"

"He never signed out." 

"Maybe he crashed in his on-base quarters."

"Maybe." Jack massaged the tight muscles at the base of his neck. "How did he seem during his exam?"

Fraiser sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Quiet. Withdrawn. Maybe a little shell-shocked."

"He didn't . . . say anything?"

"Nothing beyond what was required for common courtesy." Fraiser sat up and reached for another chart. "Give him some time, Colonel. From what little I've heard through the grapevine, I'd say he's been through a lot."

"Yeah." Jack stood, leaving the rest unspoken. _That's what I'm afraid of._ "Thanks for the coffee."

Daniel's on-base quarters were dark and silent. Jack continued down the hallway to Teal'c's. He paused, knuckles barely brushing the door, then knocked.

Teal'c opened the door, framed by the soft glow of candlelight. "O'Neill. How may I assist you?"

Jack slipped his hands into his pockets and stepped inside. "Sorry if I interrupted your . . . you know."

"You did not. I have had difficulty achieving kel-no-reem."

"Ah . . . well. Sorry. Junior not cooperating?"

"Daniel Jackson weighs heavily in my thoughts."

"Yeah. Mine too. I was kinda hoping he was here with you. I've been looking all over for him."

"It has been my observation that in times of extreme emotional duress, Daniel Jackson seeks out what he calls 'space.' It may be that you cannot find him because he does not wish to be found."

Jack chewed the inside of his cheek. "Maybe. But it's been my experience that the times Daniel wants space are the times he most needs to be found." He slapped Teal'c on the back. "Thanks anyway, big guy. And good luck with the . . . " He gestured vaguely.

"Kel-no-reem."

"Yeah. That."

"O'Neill."

Jack spun on his heel. "Yo?"

"Have you tried the gateroom?"

Jack frowned. "The gateroom?"

"When struggling to make sense of events, it often helps to return to the beginning."

"Worth a try, I guess. Thanks."

Teal'c inclined his head.

Back in his favorite elevator, Jack rolled his head until his neck gave a satisfying pop. Part of him--the part that was bleary-eyed with exhaustion--wondered if he'd been chasing his own tail. Daniel could be signed out and heading home right now. Maybe he'd stopped off at the mess first to grab a snack or swung by Hammond's office with some paperwork. In a facility the size of Cheyenne Mountain, tracking someone down could be at best, aggravating, and at worst, impossible. Maybe he was making a big deal out of nothing. Daniel was probably fine.

Except . . . 

He couldn't shake the image of those white knuckles and downcast eyes. The monotone in place of Daniel's normally expressive voice.

When the elevator doors rolled open, Jack stuck his hands in his pockets and strode toward the gateroom, humming tunelessly under his breath. The guards on duty snapped to attention, but he waved them off with a flick of his hand. He panned his gaze slowly around the room, tamping down on the twinge in his gut when Daniel was nowhere to be found.

"Something I can help you with, Colonel O'Neill?"

Jack gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to snap. Everyone kept offering, damn it, but no one was _helping_. "Not unless you can conjure an archeologist out of thin air."

The airman, who looked all of fifteen, grinned and tilted his head toward the briefing room. "Next time ask me a hard one, sir."

Above them, Daniel stood with one hand pressed to the glass, his gaze fixed on the gate. Jack squinted against the glare from the bright lights. Daniel had removed his glasses, and even from a distance his face looked open and vulnerable.

"Has he been there long?"

"Long enough. I happened to glance up about a half-hour ago, and there he was. He looks like he's waiting for someone to come through the gate, but none of the off-world teams are scheduled to return tonight." The kid hesitated, then asked, "Is everything okay, sir?"

_"Are you all right?"_

_"No, I'm not. But I will be."_

"Everything's just peachy." Jack started for the briefing room, remembering at the last moment to call an "as you were" over his shoulder.

His shoes clanged a metallic beat as he jogged up the two sets of stairs. After a brief pause at the top, he schooled his features into a cheerful mask and strolled into the room. 

"Daniel?"

"Jack." Daniel dropped the hand propped on the glass but didn't turn around. "I thought you were going home."

Jack moved closer, cautiously, as if he were approaching a wounded animal. "Now see, that's _my_ line."

"Changed my mind." Flat. Lifeless.

"You're strung out. You need to sleep."

"I can't."

"Last I checked, that's something you can't determine without trying first." When Daniel didn't answer, Jack pushed. "Lying down is probably a good start."

"Don't."

"Don't?"

"I'm not in the mood."

"Ah." Jack let it sit for a minute. "Mind telling me what you're not in the mood for?"

"You. Me. Us." Daniel waved apathetically between them. "This . . . dance we do." He dropped his hand and his shoulders curled. "Please. Just leave me alone."

"No can do, Danny."

That caught his attention. Daniel snapped his head around and knitted his brows into a scowl. "No can . . . What's that supposed to mean?"

Jack shrugged, gratified to see a flicker of the Jackson fire. "I think it's pretty self-explanatory, and I'm not even the linguist."

Daniel shouldered past him, headed for the door. "Fine. Then I'll just go someplace I can--"

"There was nothing more you could have done."

Daniel froze, his body rigid.

"I read Teal'c's report. You were outnumbered and cut off from back-up. There was no way to get Sha're through the gate, especially once Ammonet resumed control. But you did save the child." Jack squeezed Daniel's shoulder, the muscles like iron under his fingers. "I understand how you must feel, but--"

"No, you don't." Daniel shrugged off Jack's grip, but there was no anger in his expression. He wrapped himself up in his own arms.

"Okay." Jack took a step back and parked his butt on the briefing table. "Tell me."

"Jack, I just really . . ." Daniel closed his eyes, sighed. He opened them and came over, shoved one of the leather chairs out of the way, and mirrored Jack's position.

"I may not be a soldier, but I've been living and breathing the military for the last eighteen months. I paid attention during all that training you gave me. I know how to threat assess, and I accept the fact that I couldn't save . . ." His voice cracked and he turned his head away, throat working. "I accept that."

Jack gave him a minute. He knew he was treading on very thin ice. Coaxing stuff like this out of Daniel took patience and finesse--not his customary bull-in-the-china shop tactlessness. "Finding her there must have been a shock."

"She'd been on Abydos for months--did Teal'c tell you that?"

Jack's gut ached at the desolation. "He mentioned it, yeah."

"All these months I've been out there looking for her, and she was right there. Right under my nose." Daniel laughed, but it was bitter and without humor. "Gives new meaning to the expression 'spinning your wheels.'"

"Is that all you think we've been doing?" Jack forced a hard edge into his voice. Tough love, he told himself.

It had the desired affect, shaking Daniel from his despondency. "What?"

Jack tipped his thumb back at the gate. "Making allies against the Goa'uld, rescuing Teal'c's kid, saving Earth from imminent destruction . . . That's all been a waste of your time, huh?"

"That's not what I--No! Of course I don't mean . . ." Daniel ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Don't you see? I had it. Everything I ever wanted, everything I ever hoped for. And then I lost it. Twice."

"I know."

"No, you don't. You don't get it at all. We'd just decided to have children." Daniel dropped his hands and turned wet, bloodshot eyes on Jack. "That baby should have been mine, Jack. _Mine._ "

"Daniel--"

"If only I'd kept my head on straight, taken Sha're back through the gate immediately. But I was hurt and jealous and I . . . God, I wasted precious time wallowing in self-pity. I'm not sure I can forgive myself for that." 

"There's nothing for you to forgive." Jack forced the words past the boulder in his throat. "You have a reason to feel regret, but not guilt. You didn't lose your child, and you didn't lose Sha're. They were taken from you. Don't ever confuse the two."

Daniel blew out a shaky breath, tucking his chin to his chest. "I'd like to believe that. But it's not how it feels."

"Believe it. In time, the feelings might just follow." 

"I don't think I have that much time." He turned his head and pinned Jack with an intense gaze. "I don't want to adjust. I want them back."

"And I'll do everything I can to make that happen. I promise." After a brief silence, Jack ruffled the too-long hair and stood. "C'mon. Let's go."

Consumed by his own grief, Daniel actually took two steps before he caught himself and frowned at Jack. "Where?"

"My place."

The frown deepened and Daniel shook his head. "Your place? I can't just . . . I need--"

Jack held up a finger. "Ah! Ah! What you _need_ is pizza and beer. Lots of beer."

"Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm not good company tonight. I really think I'm better off alone."

"Do you trust me?"

Once again, the curve ball out of left field jolted Daniel from introspection. "Why would you . . . Of course I do."

Jack walked back and cupped his hand around Daniel's neck, steering him toward the door. "Then come to my house. Eat pizza. Drink too much beer and unload on me. Pass out on my couch. I'll provide a shoulder, coffee, and aspirin." He sighed and released his friend. "Trust me, Daniel. The last thing you need tonight is to be alone."

Daniel followed him out of the briefing room, but his expression was skeptical. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"'Course I do." When Daniel raised his eyebrows, Jack explained, "I'm getting you to all right."

Daniel's steps faltered and he blinked hard as the meaning behind the words sank in. "I . . . Thanks."

"You don't have to thank me. It's what friends do." Jack shoved his hands in his pockets and resumed walking. "Besides, you're buying the pizza."

Mission accomplished. From the corner of his eye he saw Daniel's lips curve. "It's a deal."


End file.
